


Making the World a Little Colder

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crack, Drug Addiction, Fluff, London, M/M, War, music meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-21
Updated: 2010-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this meme:<br/>1. Pick a character, pairing, or whatever you like.<br/>2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.<br/>3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward! <br/>4. Do ten of these, then post them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the World a Little Colder

**Author's Note:**

> The only cheats I did was some cleaning up for grammar and spelling, and skipping over some songs that were really not suitable. I have lots of soundtracks and strange sound experiment stuff.

1\. Hey Jude – Beatles (really? Really? Talk about psitunes) but I'm not going the rps route

Holmes is delivering a toast at the wedding, and Watson would normally be worried, because who knows what Holmes will come out with in crusade to break him away from Mary, but Holmes has already delivered his toast to Watson, dropped into his ear in whispers late last night, while they lay wrapped around each other once again. The speech Holmes is giving now is a bland, passionless version of his earlier gift.

_"Watson, I know I have not been supportive of your decision to leave, of your decision to marry, but it is happening despite me, and I will not lose your friendship over such a thing. Watson turned to him, and Holmes, he started to say(it will not end here), but Holmes placed a hand over his mouth and, "Give her your love, Watson. Don't make her simply a societal acceptable match. Let her under your skin as you have let me, as I have let you. Don't, don't dwell on what we have had here, she already loves you, don't be reluctant to give her your love because of me. She's the type of woman you were made to go out and get. Let me out of your heart, and let her fill it instead." Watson is moved by his words, and tells Holmes, "Yes. I will."_

Holmes is speaking words of blessing, and watching Watson smile, and pretending he is not shattering his heart with every syllable.

*

2\. I've Got You Under My Skin – Michael Buble

Sometimes, Holmes thinks he can smell the scent of Watson – antiseptic, smoke, a musk of sweat and eastern spice that somehow never quite fades – that can smell it on his skin at all times, layered under whatever current grim discolors him. He wonders if at some point, when he wasn't paying attention, Watson injected this cocktail of provocation into his veins, like cocaine, and there is remains, pulsing though him, a constant reminder of something he can't have. He'd hate Watson for it, if he didn't love him quite so much. He is embedded in Holmes, deep in the heart of him, and even when he is gone, the scent of him rises up and Holmes finds himself reaching for the needle to drown it out.

*

3\. Oh, Gravity – Switchfoot – ModernAU

Holmes has called Watson tonight to come get him, and he hauls himself out of bed cursing his own good nature. He knows what he will find when he eases the car past the ruts and broken glass and the lights turn Holmes into a man on fire. Holmes is drunk again, or high, or both, and he is ranting to Watson about conspiracy theories and little tragedies and plaintive cries to gravity, why gravity is conspiring against him, and why doesn't Watson have any trouble with the immovable force. Watson thinks he may indeed be having problems with gravity, the world spinning around the taste of vodka and smoke that is sliding from Holmes' mouth to his. During his investigation of Holmes body, discovering what makes him cry out and in what manner, he finds the track marks in the crook of his arm _again_ and wonders why he ever got involved with the madman.

*

4\. I Feel it All – Fiest

Holmes has never wondered who will be the one to break his heart until it happens, without warning, and there is a stuttering, a broken beat that used to whisper _Watson, Watson, Watson_. He knows now that it was Watson who broke his heart; no, it was not Watson, it was the man who caused his death, and though he didn't care before, now, now he would be the one to win this war. He was the one holding the gun; he was the one who was going to end it.

*

5\. Storms in Africa – Enya

Afghanistan is dry and hot and the sand is everywhere, and the men are dying faster than he can stitch them up, faster than he can even realize they are there to be tended, and the heat is yet another enemy, joining the natives and the fanatics and the disease, the constant stench of decaying flesh being increased each day with each and every corpse, and he tries not to look at the faces as the come beneath him, unwilling to watch someone he knows die under his hands. One day he hears a sound, over the cries and moans of the wounded, a pattering, and looks up. The door of the tent is dark, and there are small craters in the dust of the plain. He steps out, and it raining; he has not seen rain since he left England, and it is cool, the breeze is blowing through the tent, bringing air and hope and homesickness.

It does not last. The natives tell him it is only the first rain of the monsoon season. Soon he will be up to his knees in mud at all times, and it is almost worse than before.

*

6\. The World You Love – Jimmy Eat World

Watson's written up the last case. Blackwood's hanging is the only loose end to tie up, and he's marrying Mary, despite what Holmes may want. He's been trying to find a good way to tell Holmes he wants out, but no subtle hint will ever break this up. He thinks he has simply replaced his gambling addiction with an addiction to Holmes, which is not much less expensive, and ten times more dangerous and destructive. He knows that he's in love with the less ordinary parts of the world, but Mary is an ordinary part of the world, and he's had enough excitement to last a lifetime, he's had enough sewers and chases and staring into the dark underbelly of the world, where things lurk he doesn't want to name. He doesn't know how to tell Holmes this, but he knows Holmes won't understand.

*

7\. My Style – Black Eyed Peas

"Oh come now Watson, don't complain. I know that you like my style."

"Holmes, when do I ever complain? And what sense of style are you referring to, as you have none? I am simply stating that I find it ridiculous that you are constantly stealing my clothes."

"Well, you could always steal mine."

"There is nothing of yours that I want to steal. You have horrendous taste in waistcoats, and your shirts are always filthy, and your trousers will never fit me."

"Its hardly my fault you have no sense of style."

"Holmes…"

*

8\. Disappearing World – David Grey

Night falling on the city is something to behold, and Sherlock Holmes knows every moment of it as intimately as Watson's skin. They are equally as appealing, shadow sliding down the curves and peaks of shoulder and gothic architecture. Darkness and a certain taste of danger pool in their hollows, waiting to be stirred by an unaware footstep, an incautious finger. Holmes has tasted both pleasures, and brings Watson the scent of his city, captured in his hair, imbedded in his skin, as he brings London the footsteps of his lover, the occasional gift of blood on cobblestones, the occasional gift of money that permits him to continue residence at Baker St., close at hand to both his passions.

*

9\. Don't Worry, Be Happy – Bobby McFerrin

Watson is leaning against the back of the settee, leg propped up on a stool, engrossed in one of the newer medical journals that just came today. Holmes is propped up against him, and Watson has one arm resting over his chest. Holmes arm is stretched out above his head, resting across Watson's lap, and he is making small sounds in his sleep, shifting slightly. Gladstone is slumped over one of Holmes' legs, no doubt putting them completely to sleep, and grumbles as Holmes shifts. Without even looking up from his journal, Watson's hand comes up to card through Holmes' hair, and the other man sighs and nestles into him deeper, and Watson smiles into his words of medical innovation.

*

10\. Hotel Song – Regina Spektor

Holmes has invited this slender young man to share rooms with him in part because of his obvious fascination in Holmes' new process of observation, and Holmes is as excited to have someone to demonstrate these processes to as he is to have someone to share the bills. After three weeks of dancing around each other, Holmes has deduced that if he wants to know Watson as fully as possible (and he rather does) he should bed him, which is not something that at all dismays him. But he does not know how to go about it – Watson is hardly a fool.

It is only later, after the sweat and come have dried on both their skins that Holmes can turn his head to look at John, resting in the crook of his arm, and know that he is something better than his fool – he is his friend


End file.
